Clove The Girl with Something to Prove
by kittyA
Summary: My Clove FanFic. The story begins on Reaping day, and follows the untold story of one of the careers; Clove. Enter her world and learn how she sees from my opinion the Capitol and the Hunger Games. Please leave any suggestions and comments that you have! KittyA
1. I Will Always be There for You

I woke up to the sound of my cat, clawing at the cupboard that held it's precious food as a hostage. I don't even remember how he came to be a part of the family. "It hardly matters now." I think, as I walk out onto the cobblestone street that runs in front of our house, tugging my clothes on as I go.

Tomorrow is Reaping Day, but that hardly means that I am going to stop my early morning training sessions at the gym. There is only ever one other person who shows up in the morning, so it's the best time for me to train, and think. It's dangerous for me to be around other people when I think, because sometimes, I say things out loud, without noticing. To say what I ponder is practically a death sentence in District 2. You aren't allowed to question the almighty Capitol here, and that is all I ever do – question and rebel.

I'm still walking to the training centre now, being careful to hide my collection of knives from any curious Peacekeepers. I don't trust anyone but myself with my knives, so I carry them with me, rather than leaving them at the centre like everyone else. There is only one other person like me, who doesn't leave their equipment in the gym, that other morning-freak… What's his name? Calvin, Karl, Cato? Ah yes, Cato.

He reminds me of those horrible, vicious tributes that are brutal with their victims, but I trust him. It was probably 3 months ago that we had our first real interaction, past just faint acknowledgement of one another if we happened to show up to the "warehouse" aka, tribute training centre, at the same time.

It had been a particularly bad day at home, one where my mother was up at the crack of dawn, and I got yelled at before I even left for training. I suppose I started muttering to myself while I was throwing my knives that morning, and Cato started paying attention to me. Stupid me chose that time to break down and cry for the first time since my dad left. Of course, Cato was kind about it, and he started to talk to me, which made me cry even more.

"What's the matter little one?" he implored. He got this cute little crease in his forehead…

"My dad left my mom 4 years ago, my mom hates me now, and my little sister hates me because I fight with mom too much. I'm all alone, no one understands me, and…"

I whispered the next part because I didn't want to be overheard "and… I hate the Capitol and I wish that everyone in it, with those stupid outfits, would burn in hell!"

I covered my mouth with my hands, eyes wide with fear, and paralyzed from shock. I had never used that language in my head, let alone out loud, to a stranger!

He patted my head, and lifted me to my feet. He said, "I understand, little one. And you aren't alone, from now on – I will always be there for you." He hugged me, and then went back to his training. I will never know what possessed him to talk to me that day.

As I enter the grand lobby of the training centre, I wonder if Cato's muscular body would be hacking away at a dummy with his favourite sword, or if he would be showing off with the weights. Would he even be here today?

I paused my train of thought so that I could change into my workout uniform. I swear, these outfits must be against some sort of fashion law! They are absolutely hideous and none of them fit! The canary yellow top was made for someone with three times the chest that I have, and the colour looks ghastly against my pale skin. As for the pants, I suppose there is nothing horribly wrong with them – basic black yoga pants. The problem is, there is extra fabric everywhere, resulting in different length pant legs. Once I deem myself presentable, I walked into the training room.

When I walked into the brightly light room, I spotted Cato immediately. He was seated on the floor, with his back up against the wall. When he looked up at me, he seemed worried, and the smile that had been on my face, quickly disappeared.

"I thought we agreed to show up extra early on Reaping Day, my vicious little friend." Said Cato.

I thought to myself, "what? Reaping Day isn't until tomorr…. Oh."

"I guess I should go home and make myself pretty, huh?" I giggled nervously. Cato pulled me in for a hug. "Good luck, fighter," he said. "and if you get chosen, try not to be so forgetful, okay?"

I simply nodded my head in reply, and I ran out of the room. I ran all of the way home, pausing only to grad my clothes and knives from the locker room. I had to get home and say a few things to my mom, just in case I never saw her again.


	2. Promise

I arrived home to find the house empty and a pretty green dress with capped sleeves laid out on my bed. There was a note on the kitchen table from my sister, letting me know that they had already left for the Reaping and that she and mom would see me after. Well, so much for making up with my mom and sister. I began getting dressed, a feeling of dread, anger, and hatred building inside of me. I'm used to the anger and hatred, but dread is something that I am unaccustomed to.

I am now dressed and probably as pretty as I have ever been. I tucked the note from my sister into a pocket in my dress and walked out of the house. If I get picked today, I wont miss this house at all. I start running towards the square, afraid of being punished for missing the Reaping. Wouldn't that be a shame? Missing two people receiving a death sentence that they don't deserve.

OW! Does the Capitol person really need to be so rough when they take your blood? Oh, yay! It's official – I'm me. I have been led to the area with the other fifteen-year olds. My family is relatively well off, so I only have 5 slips of paper with my name on it in that glass bowl that has ruined hundreds of lives. My 4 required slips and one from taking tesserae the first year after my dad left. My odds are a whole lot better than most of the girls my age, but it doesn't give me much comfort. I stand there fidgeting for what feels like hours along with the rest of my home district. It was probably only 10 minutes though, before the mayor, the mentors, and the scary Capitol lady that has been District 2's chaperone for as long as I can remember – Crystal. She makes her cheesy 'Happy Hunger Games' speech – I don't get what's so happy about it – and then she walks over to the girl's bowl, always the girls first. She fishes around in the bowl for a bit, chooses a slip of paper, and then dramatically carries it to the microphone.

I cross my fingers and close my eyes.

"…And the girl tribute is…" she opens the slip, "…oh, it's blank. Well, I guess that we have to choose another name." She hobbles as fast as she can in those ridiculous shoes of hers, over to the bowl, and she grabs the first slip that she can reach.

"Clove Sevina. Come up here sweetie."

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!

I manage to keep a straight face as I walk up to the stage, but I can't prevent my legs from shaking. Crystal catches me as I trip over the final step up to the stage. Well Clove, I think to myself, great first impression for the sponsors.

As soon as I am standing, she's off to get the boy tribute chosen, but before she can put her perfectly manicured hand into the boy's bowl, a volunteer interrupts her. Of course there is a volunteer – this is a career district. I'm nearly knocked down again when I see who the volunteer is. Cato.

He walks up the steps to the stage and automatically announces his name to the district "Cato Locke."

I. Want. To. Cry.

Crystal starts to talk, "Ladies and gentlemen, District 2"s tributes for the 74th Hunger Games! Clove and Cato!"

Cato turns to shake hands with me, and I can hear him just over the applause of the crowd "I promised that I would always be there for you."

Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled my hand out of his grasp, raised it, and slapped him across the face.


	3. The cement room

There was already a huge red welt forming on Cato's face by the time the crowd registered what had happened and Crystal turned around. Crystal glared at me, and then wobbled over to Cato and I. She grabbed my arm and whipped me around to face the doors off of the stage; Cato was allowed to turn by himself. We were then, both shoved into separate rooms so that our loved ones could come and say goodbye. This, training, and in our bedrooms is the only time since the Reaping that we can be away from the cameras and Capitol people. I wonder who will come and see me, who will go visit Cato?

When I stop thinking and finally look up, I notice the room that I am in and to be honest, I am shocked. This looks more like a prison cell than something in a Capitol building. The walls are made of cement and they are unpainted, there are no paintings, or even windows in this room. As I walk around the room, I see cobwebs so old that when you touch them, they turn to dust. The only thing that stands out in this room and truly makes me believe that it hasn't been left unopened since it was built is the hundreds of scuffmarks on the floor, leading from the center of the room and to the door. These marks were left by generations of tributes being pulled away from their loved ones. Each trying to say one last goodbye, or 'I love you', or words of strength and encouragement. To me, this is the worst part of the Games. This very room encompasses the most horrible part of the entire stupid Games. Yes, watching mere children tear each other apart is awful, but this is where families are torn apart, lives ripped apart. This room has witnessed lives, families and loved ones being torn apart for 73 years, this is it's 74th.

At this thought, I wonder when my turn to say goodbye to my family and fr- well, not friends, I don't have any – will be. As the minutes slowly pass and I pace around this barren room I being to realize, that I wont get that chance. My mom and sister aren't coming to say goodbye to me. They truly hate me and wont give me the chance to make my peace before I die. Perhaps they want to make me suffer and die feeling guilty, or maybe it is their way of saying 'you will come back, apologize then.' But I know better. They simply don't care about me. My own mother doesn't care about me.

All that I want to do is lay down on that cold floor, scream, cry, and kick, hit, and bash my head until I feel nothing. Until I'm dead. I don't want to come back home, so what's the point in even going to the Games if I'm not going to fight. What's the point in living past today? In a couple of weeks, I will have someone else bashing my head against something in order to kill me. I would much rather do it myself, thank you very much.

I would very much love to do that right now, but then they would pick another tribute, and ruin another family, so I wont. With that decided, I sat down on the hard floor (I still can't believe that there aren't any chairs), I put my head in my hands and tried desperately not to cry. I waited, and waited. Then, the knock came.


	4. My rock

When I finally heard that knock on the door, I thought that my mom had changed her mind. 'Come in!' I yelled. I became ecstatic, hoping for a sight of my sister. The door opened slightly, but it wasn't my mother's voice that reached my ears, but a gruff, male voice. 'It's time to collect yourself and prepare for departure to the Capitol'. Well, so much for it being my mom.

I stood up shakily and smoothed out the wrinkles that had formed in my dress. Then the Peacekeepers came. The sight of them shocks me every single time that I see them. The white suits that look like they were made for space travel, the guns, the swords, and the mere size of them can scare the pants off of you. The Peacekeepers surrounded me, and began to walk. I didn't know that the tributes got an armed escort to the train. That's probably because most don't, but I have a reputation for being vicious and making fools out of Peacekeepers, two at a time, because they couldn't handle me.

I walked out of that little room with my head held high. I didn't want anyone to know that I was weak, that I was hurt, that the Capitol had won. By the time the cameras found me in the sea of Peacekeepers, my face was stone, I was a menace, I was a worthy competitor that had a chance at becoming Victor. I was determined to keep up that look for the rest of my life. As I walked up the stairs and into the train compartment, I really thought that I could do it. The doors closed behind me, and I saw Cato. He came running at me. He wrapped his huge arms around me, enveloping me in his smell, this sudden jolt back to reality caused me to collapse into his arms and begin to cry. Somehow, he always makes me feel like I can cry.


	5. Dead is dead

As I cry, I am vaguely aware that the train has started moving and people are moving around, but Cato just holds me in his strong arms.

'Clove,' he says, lifting my chin so that I am looking him in his gorgeous eyes. 'You need to pull yourself together.'

'but…'

'No buts, Clove. You walked out of the Justice building looking strong and that is the image you have to stick with. The only time you can cry is in your room with me. Our mentors can't see you like this, or they will treat you as though you are weak. I know that you aren't weak. So, please? Just try to put on your usual glare until bedtime? Then you can hit me again?'

I smile when he says this, feeling our old friendship and closeness returning.

'Alright,' I say 'Let's get dinner over with.'

He takes my arm and we walk into the dining car.

'Hello Clove!' Crystal exclaims when Cato and I entered the room. 'I'm so excited to get to be your mentor! I have heard so much about you and your skills as a fighter! I don't doubt that you can make the top four, or even win the Games!'

What the hell does this lady think I am walking into? Being in the top four of a competition in District 2 is awesome, but it's different in the arena. Dead is dead, no matter how far you get. The only thing that matters is getting out alive. Crystal is still blabbing, but I stopped listening a long time ago because I'm watching Cato.


	6. Character building

Cato is staring at a man, sitting in an armchair next to the cracking fireplace. I assume he is the male mentor for District 2, but he looks nothing like someone that I would want to be responsible for my life in the arena. He sits, curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth, and muttering to himself. I've never seen the District 2 male mentor, but I guess they don't want to show a mentor looking like this. Haymitch, the drunk District 12 mentor, they can handle, but not someone who has gone insane. Wait a minute… I have seen him before, when I was little. He competed in the Games. You wouldn't be able to tell that he is in his twenties because he looks so old, empty, and scared. I notice a little twitch that his right hand has, and I wonder what caused him to be like this. I assume that it was the Games, but I never imagined that they could have this effect on someone. Crystal interrupts my thoughts.

'This is Dylan. He will be your mentor, Cato. You can get acquainted later. Dinner is being served!'

I grab Cato's hand and yank him away from Dylan and to the table that is magnificently set with fine china and gold dinnerware, crystal glasses, and ornate silver cutlery. I recognize the food; the people of District 2 are fed well for our entire lives, our weakness in the Games. Cato and I sit down next to each other and begin eating. Then, Crystal starts talking AGAIN (does this woman's mouth ever stop moving?) and I'm afraid that I might explode at her. Maybe she is a mentor and chaperone, but she has no idea what she is talking about. She's never been in the Hunger Games.

'Congratulations on being chosen as tributes! It is a great honour.'

And I'm about to scream at this woman!

'You both have wonderful odds at surviving to the top four! It will be a wonderful experience for you! It does wonders for character building!'

That's it.

'Character building?' I spit out. 'Wonderful experience? What planet are you from and what are you watching while innocent children are murdered by other children? It ruins who you are, it turns you a revolting monster that kills children who are like you and just want to go home! Children are dispensable to you and the Capitol! We are for your entertainment, but only when it is convenient for you! We are shoved away to be raised by strangers until we are old enough to enter your glorified death show! You people have kids just so that they can die! I hate you, I hate the Capitol and I just hate life! You are taking away everything that is precious to me and hurting everyone that I love! You have ruined my family and now I'm being sent away to a slaughter simply because I was born in the wrong place!'

Now I'm running down the halls of the train, trying to find my room so that I can shut out the world. I finally find the door to my room, with 'Tribute Girl' written on the door. How fitting. I'm not even deserving of a name. Another life that doesn't matter, that is exchangeable with another. It doesn't matter who, or what they have gone through, as long as there is someone to fill this room every year. That's all that they care about. When I push open the door, I don't stop to admire the lavish furnishings in the room, I simply walk in. As I go, pushing a vase next to the door, sending it crashing to the floor. I bounce a couple of times when I fall, face first onto my bed. After that, I just lie there, wanting to die.

My door opens and Cato whispers 'Clove, can I come in? I have to talk to you about something.'


	7. The talk

'Yea, sure. Come on in.' I'm now sitting up and alert. Cato sits down at the foot of my bed.  
'Seriously, Cato? Don't be so shy!' I say, patting the pillow next to me. He shifts his weight, as if he is unsure, and then he moves across the bed so that he is sitting next to me. I'm starting to get nervous about why he wants to talk.  
"So, what do you want to talk about, Cato?"  
"I wanted to give you something," he says, as he unclips a chain from around his neck and slips something off of it. "It was my mom's before she died. She died after she gave birth to me, but she had willed it to me. She left a message to give it to that one special person that means the world to you and want to spend the rest of your life with them. Hold onto them and cherish them for your entire life. I have worn it on this chain for my entire life. I've never taken it off, and now, I want you to have it."  
He places it in my hand, and when I look at it, it is the most gorgeo

us engagement ring that I have ever seen. I look up at him, speechless, for probably the first time in my life.  
"I love you, Clove."  
He slips the ring on my finger, and it fits perfectly. Just like him. He has been my rock these past few months and I have been happier because of him. He was the perfect fit for me. I look up at him again, with the first real smile I have worn since I saw him this morning.  
"I love you too, Cato."  
As much as he makes me comfortable enough to cry, the only time I really smile is when I am with him.  
I lean in and hug him, a sigh escaping my lips. Even though I am on my way to imminent death in a few weeks, this is the safest I have felt in my life. Then, I feel his weight shift, and I know that when I look up at him, he will kiss me. I'm not scared though; I can't wait. I take a deep breath and look at him. I was right, he is there waiting for me, and he smiles like I have never seen before. Then, we lean in. His soft lips gently kiss mine and I feel like I am floating. As he pulls away, I gently float back down to Earth.  
"Stay here tonight, please?" I say.  
"Of course."  
We crawl under the sheets and I snuggle into him. My right hand over his heart and my head resting on his chest. He's stroking my hair in a soothing rhythm. I drift away to sleep listening to his heartbeat, synchronized with my own.


	8. Nightmares

My mom is screaming at my dad right now and he is scarily quiet. He never shows emotions, he wont get mad, he just simmers. It's the same story every time, hey have been having this fight for as long as I can remember. It's all my fault, really. I don't like to be told what to do or be criticized, especially by my mom. I roll my eyes, or huff and groan, and then she gets upset with me and we fight. I've tried so hard to stop talking back and accept what she has to say, but I always mess up and can't hide my feelings. Then, we fight again. It causes my parents to fight and we all know that it is my fault, but my sister is the only one who will admit it. She blames me for it all, for our family falling apart. My dad now has his hand on the doorknob and my mom is sobbing. I'm sitting on the stairs; screaming, crying, and hitting my head as hard as I can on the wall. As he opens the door, I know that this time, he isn't coming back. I will have no dad and I will be left with a mother and sister who hate me. Now, not only am I hitting my head on the wall, I am pinching myself and drawing blood in some cases. The only way to deal with the emotional pain is to hurt my body. It's the only way to relieve some of the pain I'm dealing with, to hurt myself more. All the pain I put myself through though, won't be enough to save my family this time. I begin to scream as loud as I can. The door closes and my dad is gone. Then, my world goes black.


	9. Welcome to the Capitol

I wake up shaking, cold, and sweaty. Cato is curled up on the other side of the bed, sleeping peacefully. I don't want to disturb him because soon enough, we wont be getting any good sleep. I get up and walk to the window. It is still dark outside, but I can vaguely see a meadow with lush grass, thick patches of a white flower that I think are baby's breath, and primrose bushes everywhere. I can feel myself slipping into a dreamlike state, but I don't mind, I need to escape reality for a bit…

I hear two kids screaming and laughing. I see them running through the meadow and I feel a pang in my chest when I realize that they share features of Cato and mine. Cato and I have two beautiful boys. The boys, Peter and Ian, treat each other like Sam, my older sister, and I did before Dad left. I'm happy that the boys will get a chance to know the love and support of their sibling.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Peter is shrieking. Peter and Ian came flying at me with a tackle hug. I honestly can't believe that kids act this way, Sam and I were raised by the principle that children should be seen and not heard, a rule that I broke very often.

"Mommy," Ian says. "Why do you look so sad? I don't like it when you are sad."

"It's okay sweetie." I say, stroking his thick black hair.

"I love you, Mommy." Peter says, hugging me around the waist.

Then, Peter and Ian run away again, picking white flowers and primroses as they go.

"I told you that I would always be there for you Clove. I would die for you if I had to. Just call for me, and I will be there to protect you." Cato says, appearing next to me.

I see flowers, smell the sweet summer air, hear Ian and Peter laughing, feel Cato's strong arms around me, and then, the meadow disappears.

I return to my reality just as the door to my room swings open.

"Up! Up! We are reaching the Capitol. Cato, why are you in Clove's bed?" Crystal says.

Cato gazes groggily at her through his sleep-weary eyes, Crystal woke him up.

"I was having nightmares last night and he came in to check on me. I let him fall asleep on my bed when I decided that I wasn't going to be getting any sleep last night." I say. I'm mad at myself for admitting that I was having nightmares. Cato said not to show my weaknesses to our mentors.

"Alright, well, don't make a habit of this sleeping arrangement." Crystal says.

"Yes, Crystal." Cato and I both say.

She turns on her heel, reminding us to be ready in 20 minutes, as she walks out of the door.

"Good morning, my love." Cato says to me. "Did you really have a nightmare last night?"

"Yea… I did." I whisper.

"Come here." He opens his arms and walks towards me. He wraps me in a hug that reminds me of his hug in my daydream, reminding me of what we could have had, if the Hunger Games didn't exist. If the Capitol didn't find it necessary to play these dumb control games that cost people their lives.

We are almost in the Capitol now, so I can't talk to Cato about my nightmare yet. The Hunger Games is a television show and I intend to give the performance of a lifetime, to save my life, so I can't afford to cry. Emotion is not an option now, except for a smirk here and there.

"We should be getting ready to get off in the Capitol soon, Cato. You should go and get dressed, I'm alright."

"Oh… Okay." He replies, sounding hesitant. Cato leaves my room in search of his own. I sit down on the down-filled mattress, my fingers caressing the luxuriously soft quilts and blankets covering the bed. The walls are painted a soft shade of purple, lilac. The floor is covered in a plush royal blue carpet, made in District 1, another career district. My allies come from that district, it's an automatic arrangement, and you don't have a choice. The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and sometimes 4 are always allies because we are the strongest tributes.

A mahogany dresser is filled with clothing for me to wear; different materials, designs, styles, colours, and patterns. Any outfit I could imagine. I exchange my green dress for a fresh pair of cargo pants, a tight black t-shirt, and a pair of black running shoes. I put on my knife vest over my shirt and grab a jacket to put on over it. I keep Cato's ring in a pocket in the jacket. I leave my green dress and ballet flats crumpled in a ball on the floor. When I walk off this train, the only part of my old life that I am bringing with me is Cato.

The door to my room closes behind me, and without looking back, I walk away. I stomp down the hall to where Crystal, Dylan, and Cato are waiting. The train slows down, pulling into the main train station in the Capitol. I can hear the screaming from the crowds; they are excited to see another tribute train pulling in. Cato stands to my left, both of us staring at the doors that are about to open. We stand shoulder-to-shoulder, heads high, backs straight, and our faces stony cold. Crystal and Dylan stand behind us; anticipating the reaction of the crowd to our first public appearance since the Reaping. Cato reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze and then drops it so that we seem unattached and emotionless. The screams outside get louder and the doors open.

Welcome to the Capitol.


	10. Arrival

When my eyes adjust to the bright light of the Capitol, I see the people. The people that are going to be betting on my life. I hate them, but I'm going to play the part of the career. My stare is menacing, and my smirk is confidant. People cheer as Cato and I walk down the steps and out of the train. Maybe they see me as a little girl, but I am still a career and I plan on giving them a show that they won't forget. They holler for blood and drama during the Games, and that is exactly what they are going to get, no matter the cost to myself. They don't deserve to know who I really am, and I won't be getting out of that arena, so it doesn't matter who I become. As Cato and I walk down the path to the remake centre, women of all ages are cheering for Cato, no doubt because they think he is attractive, which he is. I am basically invisible at this point, but that will change. I can promise that. The Capitol will not forget me, my thirst for blood, or my look. I will not go down without a good fight, or at least a good show.


	11. No One Left

Cato and I reach the doors of the remake centre and we wait for Crystal and Dylan to catch up. They are still basking in the glory of 2 more tributes being well received by the Capitol crowds. Cato is dangerously close to smiling right now. He was trained as a career; this is what he has spent his whole life training for. That near smile on his face scares me, it opens a widow to a part of him that I've never really know. Although, there had to be a reason that I thought that Cato would torture his victims in the Games. It is the career attitude that he has, the muscular body, the attractive looks, and the overall attitude and look of the perfect tribute.

"Is Clovey scared of the crowd? Awwe…" Cato says in a condescending tone, taunting me.

I have to restrain myself from hitting Cato again. Why is he making fun of me? Has just walking off the train turned him into a monster? Whatever. Obviously everything that happened last night was just a joke to him. That's okay though. Now, nothing can hurt me. The one person I thought would be there for me for my entire life, has turned on me. I'm alone now, so nothing can hurt me. I can truly give the show I am promising to give.

"Crystal and Dylan are taking too long." I say. I'm about to turn around when I notice that Dylan is watching us, and he looks like he is about to cry. Maybe it's just being back in the Capitol that is making him sad, I don't know. Oh well. I turn on my heel and strut into the remake centre by myself. I walk into the main entrance, but there is no one there to show me where to go, so I guess I have to wait for the chaperones to tear themselves away from their important conversations. What I don't understand about this year's mentors is that we have a Capitol lady who has never been in the Games, and a male mentor who was mentally damaged when he was in the Games. Why would the district with the largest pool of Victors to pick mentors from, have two people that can't help us? I just don't get it. It seems like some cruel joke.

"Clove, sweetie! Why did you leave?" Crystal sings as she walks into the Remake Centre.

"I have made my appearance for this morning, I want to get ready for the Tribute Parade this evening. I need time to prepare for it if I'm going to make a good impression, right?" I say innocently to Crystal, knowing that she can't disagree.

"Yes, Clove." Crystal says with a sigh.

I hate acting like I'm excited for this, but I obviously don't have anyone to stand up for me, and now, I don't have anyone that I trust to share my thoughts with.


	12. Prep

"Alright, lets get moving. The stylists have a lot to do before tonight!" Crystal says. "Lets go down to the prep area so that they can start fixing some basic problems." She says, pawing at my hair.

We walk over to some elevators, get in and press the second button.

"So, does each district have its own floor in the remake centre?" I inquire; assuming that floor 2 was for the District 2 tributes.

"Oh, no. All of the tributes are on this floor until their stylist comes and takes them to put the final touches on before the parade." Crystal replies.

"Hey, Crystal." Cato says, finally looking away from the mirror in the elevator, "Any ideas about what the costumes will be? Something to show off my muscles? I worked hard to get these."

Crystal doesn't have time to respond because the elevator stops and slides open. The first thing that hits me is the smell of the products

The first time my sister brought home Capitol products, she and I sat on her bed for hours, laughing and goofing around with different products. She ended up with her hair coloured powder blue, and I had gotten away with minimal damage, lavender coloured streaks in my black hair. By the time we had finished cleaning up the mess of makeup and hair products, her room smelled just like this one. We burned candles to rid her room of the Capitol stench. Eventually, she started using products every single morning, making the air in her room noxious. This was at the beginning of when she started to hate me, when she started to change.

"Alright, get going! We will see you before the parade tonight!" Crystal says, Dylan nods, giving me a little push out of the elevator. As soon as I was out of the elevator, 3 people arrived in a flurry of colour and noise to greet me.

"Hello, darling!" says a woman with pink hair and gold rhinestones on her face. "I'm, Cecilia, this is Clarissa," she points to a woman in a neon yellow outfit, "and this is Dominik." Pointing to a man that has had one too many plastic surgeries.

"We are your prep tam. Our goal is to make you as pretty as possible for the sponsors!" says Dominik.

We walk down a glass hallway, with prep rooms on one side and a view of the Capitol on the other. Each of the rooms have tributes in them; the prep teams performing procedures on them. I see surgical gear and IVs feeding from the wrists of the female tributes.

'What are they doing to them?' I ask, my voice trembling.

'Oh, the female tributes have to have their fallopian tubes snipped to prevent them from having their period during the Games! That would be very unfortunate and inconvenient.' Cecilia says to me. 'If you don't make it out of the arena alive, it wont matter to you. If a female were to make it out as the Victor, we simply reattach everything as it was before and no one will know the difference. Everything will work the same way.'

I'm surprised that my prep tem knows how to perform surgery, considering how silly and oblivious they seem to everything. Perhaps they aren't as simple minded as I thought. All of a sudden Clarissa and Dominik halt and begin to squeal about something that they see on the streets of the Capitol.

'Oh my! I simply can't believe that Julius is wearing that outfit! I told her that it looked horrendous and didn't flatter her figure at all!' Dominik exclaims.

'I wish I had my camera with me! I would totally post that outfit of 'People of Panem'! The neon pink leopard and zebra print in total overkill! Her picture would get so many views!' laughs Clarissa. Cecilia giggles, but keeps moving. We continue down the hall, past each of the tributes in their prep rooms. We stop at the end of the hall and the door swings open for me.

'In you go, it's time for us to get started!' Clarissa says, with a little too much enthusiasm in her voice.


End file.
